


To Have and to Hold

by mariposaroja



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amy works at a different precinct, F/M, Fluff, Humour, married at first sight au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: When Charles excitedly tells Jake one day that he's going to marry someone he's never met before in his life, Jake is (finally) ready to have him committed. But the more he thinks about it...When Amy's best friend advises her that stepping out of her comfort zone might help in her seemingly never ending quest to find the love of her life, this isn't exactly what she has in mind..."So here's your something old, something borrowed and something blue," Kylie arches an eyebrow, "I was going to get you something new but I figured the groom kinda covers that so I didn't bother."





	1. Jake

**Author's Note:**

> I had never seen Married at First Sight before yesterday and, let me tell you, it is WILD. And there was a certain couple that I couldn't help but think of as I was watching ;)

At first he tries to ignore the other man’s presence, but there quickly comes a point when the incessant staring becomes a bit of distraction from the _super_ interesting report that he’s currently working on. Sighing, Jake stops typing, dramatically swivelling his chair to face his company’s. “What’s going on, Charles?”

“Jake,” Boyle barely takes a breath before diving into the story, “I have some great news.”

“Oh yeah? Well, don’t leave me hanging.”

“I signed up for this social experiment, and I am so psyched-“

Resisting the urge to groan, Jake arches an eyebrow. Of all the possible combinations of words in the history of the universe, he would rank ‘Boyle’ and ‘social experiment’ at least in the top five most potentially disastrous. Although, admittedly, he can’t believe there would be much that could surprise him at this point. “This isn’t the thing with the tortoise again is it?”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. Although that could potentially be interesting…”

“Yeah… I’m just going to stop you there before things get really weird. So what is this experiment then?”

“It’s going to solve all my problems, Jake, you have no idea-“

“I _might_ if you would actually _tell_ me.”

Boyle nodded at that, shifting in his chair as excitement began to bubble inside him. He could hardly contain himself. “I’m getting married!”

Well, of all the things he could have said if that wasn’t the last thing he expected… Jaw practically hitting the floor, Jake clapped his friend on the shoulder. “That’s great, man! So I guess you and Vivian finally made up then? I gotta tell you, I always thought that the two of you made a mistake-“

“What? No! That is _so_ over. Like _so so_ over.”

If he didn’t know Charles Boyle so well, Jake would have assumed that one or more of the team had put him up to this. But, unfortunately, he reckons that the chances of that are slim to none in this case. “Okay, I’m confused. You never even told me that you were seeing someone, which is _highly_ unusual.”

“That’s because I wasn’t- I’m not- seeing anyone. Social experiment, remember?”

 _Oh dear God._ “You’re just going to have to tell me, Boyle. Because I’m getting very concerned here…”

“Okay,” he shuffles closer, making Jake feel even more uncomfortable, “I heard from a friend, who heard from a friend…” Launching into the complete, unedited version of the story, he can only sit there in complete and utter shock as Boyle fills him in on everything, the key point being that his colleague- his _best friend-_ was engaged to be married to someone he’s never met before in his entire life, and won’t meet until they’re both standing at the altar. Or, maybe, _imminent_ is a better way to describe this engagement, since no match has formally been made thus far.

“You’re out of your mind.” It isn’t exactly something Jake didn’t know already, but if there was any doubt before, there certainly isn’t now. Picking up his phone, he holds up his index finger. “One minute, I’m just going to call the men in white coats and everything is going to be fine.”

Charles, of course, was bemused. “Laugh all you want, Peralta, but this is a highly technical match made on the basis of the most advanced scientific tests. Not only will my future wife and I be perfect matches personality wise, we will also be a perfect biological match as well. I gave a hair sample.”

If he was concerned before, he’s truly _horrified_ now. “Man, I really don’t think this is a good idea- like, at all. It sounds kinda dodgy.”

“It’s not dodgy at all! They have approval.”

“Approval from who?”

“You mean from _whom_ -“

“Not the time! Charles, you’re a detective. You should know better than signing up for something like this. I mean, the samples are one thing, but marrying someone you’ve never met before in your life? You have no idea what she would even be like. She could be a murderer for all you know- Anastasia Mikhailov, the daughter of a former KGB agent who’s got a body count of sixty and has come to America under the alias of Constance Greene, to marry and seek refuge from the authorities of her country-“

“Well, first of all, you have to fill out an extensive questionnaire so that they can find a compatible match for you. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe some of the questions they asked-“

“Like your mother’s maiden name and the street that you grew up on, perhaps?”

“-and, second, I’m a pretty good detective. In addition to that, I happen to be very adept at risk calulation-“

“That’s debatable.”

“-and I really think this could be it for me. But if you’re not going to take my upcoming nuptials seriously, then I suppose I’m going to be in need of a new best man.”

Hearing the disappointment in the other man’s voice, Jake feels the slightest bit bad, holding his hands up as he leans back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Boyle. You know this is just a little bit of a shock- a major shock. I’m still sceptical and there’s a very high probability that this will backfire spectacularly and end up being one of the biggest mistakes you’ve ever made in you’re entire life but if you’re happy…” He knows, after all these years, that once Charles Boyle sets his mind to something, there is virtually no chance of persuading him to- just maybe- _not_ do it.

Boyle shrugged at that. “You’ll be proven wrong when I’m happily married to my soul mate- they check for that too, you know- and you’re still alone.”

He can tell that last bit wasn’t meant to be nasty, but the words still hit Jake hard. Because, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, there’s a very good chance that that will be the case; what, with his staggering inability to make even one single relationship last more than a handful of months and everything. In recent times, he’s even started to believe that it’s just never going to happen for him, and he’s sure that his mother has too if the looks of pity she gives him whenever they have dinner together are anything to go by. No, Jake Peralta has to admit that he pretty much sucks at anything life-related that doesn’t involve being a cop. Hell, maybe Boyle does have the right idea, after all. Cut out the middle bit and just skip to the end, the potentially-but-not-probably-happily-ever-after.

“Wait, how exactly are you supposed to arrange a wedding when neither the bride nor the groom know each other?”

“That’s part of the beauty of it, Jake! They arrange _everything_ ; the bride, the ceremony, the reception, the _honeymoon_ ,” he says, failing at winking.

And, in that moment, it’s like a lightbulb illuminates above Jake’s head. Okay, he’s starting to see why his friend is so enamoured of the idea. “Hey, you know what?” he smirks, running through the possible scenarios in his head, “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all. Are they still taking candidates?”

Charles looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. “I can find out! Jake, this is going to be amazing. We’re both going to find the love of our lives and we can be each other’s best man!”

Somehow- and he doesn’t know how it happened- in the midst of trying to talk Charles _out_ of marrying someone he’s never met before in his life, he managed to talk himself _in_ to it. Jake knows that he’s probably completely lost his mind (and put his poor mother in an early grave) but hey, what’s he got to lose? It’s not like his wife will divorce him and take him for everything he’s got. And even if she tries, that would be like 30 dollars so they joke would be on her… No, he prefers to look at the upsides here. He’s getting a wedding, a wife, _and_ a vacation without having to pay for any of them himself… as far as he’s concerned, he’s struck gold.

Boyle gives him the number, and since it’s too late when he gets home that night, he calls the next morning, uncaring that he’s making himself late for work. Again. He spends the whole of his lunch break (and much of the afternoon) filling out the questionnaire and related paper work, all the while thinking that he’s going to finally get himself a wife.

 

 


	2. Amy

The knock on her apartment door barely makes her flinch. Unmoving from where she’s lying, dejected, on the couch, Amy calls out for her friend to come in. Her eyes remain fixed on the ceiling as she hears footsteps approaching, stopping only inches from the top of her head. Her view is soon obscured by a blonde head, concerned blue eyes boring into her. “I brought wine.”

“Good. How much?”

“Three bottles.”

Hmm. “Well, it’s a start.”

“We’ll see about that…” Placing the bottles down on the coffee table, shockingly littered with candy wrappers and nowhere near its usual pristine condition, Kylie makes a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and the bottle opener before returning. She nudges the brunette and is met with a groan and a roll of brown eyes as Amy reluctantly scoots over. “So, what happened?” 

“Pretty much what always happens. He was a nice guy- smart, kind, treated me well… and for some reason I just got all weird and found whatever excuse possible to get out of it. God, what is wrong with me, Kylie? Why can’t I just be happy? I’m starting to think I’m afraid of commitment.”

“I don’t think you’re afraid of commitment,” Kylie says as she makes short work of the cork, pouring more than was probably advisable into the glasses and offering one to the other woman. She certainly doesn’t judge when Amy takes a very large gulp, downing half the contents.

Amy disagrees. “I’m thirty one years of age and I still can’t seem to make it work with anyone. I must be defective, it’s the only explanation.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe- just maybe- you haven’t been able to make it work because you haven’t found the right person?”

“But I thought I have! Any one of the guys I’ve dated would have made an amazing husband.” She thinks of Teddy, how he could make her laugh, how he always put her first, how he could challenge her intellectually… The fact that he had a strange fixation with pilsners was really a very minor thing in the context of the man as a whole, and most certainly was not an objectively sound reason for ending an almost year long relationship. Even if it did grate sometimes…

Nursing her glass, Kylie contemplates that momentarily, humming softly. “Amy, I have a theory regarding why you can’t seem to find what it is you think you’re looking for.”

“Think?” her eyebrows raise, “What I _think_ I’m looking for?”

“Yeah, think. You’re so stuck in your routine that you can’t see that you’re effectively dating the same guy over and over again, and you wonder why it’s not working. From where I’m standing, it looks like Teddy, and Luke and everyone else, is not what you’re actually looking for. They’re safe, and yes, safe is wonderful, but not if it’s not what you want.”

Oh, _please_. “So what you’re saying is I should just go out and randomly pick someone that I would never in a million years otherwise date?”

“I’m not saying go for someone that is completely not you but be more openminded. Take a couple of chances that you would never have thought of taking before and see where that takes you. You never know, it could be the best thing that ever happened to you…”

Amy sincerely doubts that will be the case, nor is she particularly inclined to test whether or not her best friend is right. But the more the night progresses (and the more alcohol she consumes), though no more is really said on the matter, she begins to wonder more and more if maybe there is some truth to what Kylie is saying. Obviously, she’s not had been so lucky in love thus far; maybe casting her net a little bit wider would do her some good? It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. Especially when she considers how… particular she is. Maybe it’s her own perfectionism that is holding her back from finding the person she’s meant to be with?

But then Amy thinks about the guys she encounters on a daily basis on the job and her nose scrunches up in revulsion. No, she certainly doesn’t want to date any guy like that. Okay, she _might_ have a bit of a type, but at least she can be sure that none of them will secretly be drug pushers or pimps or members of organised (or disorganised in some cases) crime organisations, and surely _that_ trumped spontaneity any day, right?

Perhaps. Maybe? Oh god, she’s really bad at this. While Kylie is going on and on about the woman with two beagles in her building, Amy downs her fifth glass of wine, not even wincing anymore. If her best friend wants her to get out of her comfort zone, she’s going to start by getting absolutely hammered in the hope of forgetting how pathetic her love life is. Cheers.

*

Work the next day is a hundred percent not fun. It is a fun-free zone. It turns out that, in a completely unexpected turn of events, exceeding her six-drink limit was _not_ the best idea she’s ever had. It’s one of those days where all she wants to do is sit at her desk and _quietly_ do paperwork, with no one bothering her and her sore head, but of course she gets roped into a very large, very loud drug bust that of course warrants her pursuing one of the suspects on foot for _three_ blocks before she finally tackles him to the floor, right in front of a hotdog stand that makes her want to empty the contents of her stomach as well as lay down and die. Nice.

By the time she’s traipsing home that evening, Amy is deeply regretting being responsible and forgoing her car that morning in the fear that she would be still over the legal blood alcohol limit. But sitting here, in an overcrowded and too hot subway car, she reckons she would rather take the chance. Despite knowing that it is ecologically responsible to take public transport and do her bit to stop the worsening of global warning, she vows _never_ to take the subway again as long as she lives.

Trying to subtly scoot away from the elderly man who is sitting just a little bit too close for comfort, Amy pulls out her phone, scrolling through Facebook in an attempt to make the journey pass that little bit quicker. The content she sees is highly predictable- baby pictures, relationship status updates, cute dog pictures- and while all those would usually earn an enthusiastic ‘like’ (or, in some cases a heart), the only response she has right now is a very dramatic roll of her eyes as she begins to scroll even quicker, only stopping when something out of the blue grabs her eye…

It’s a link, posted by a former classmate of hers from high school, to a website purporting to be looking for single people to take part in a social experiment. At first glance, Amy writes it off as a scam of some kind, but the more she looks at it, the more convinced she becomes that it is actually all above board. Which only makes the whole thing even stranger. Who would blindly sign up to marry someone they’ve never met in their whole lives? What person in their right mind would think that a good idea?

It takes a moment of her digesting all of the information, her brow furrowed with disapproval, for the circumstances in which she’s come across this link to come back to her and, suddenly, it’s feels like she’s having an epiphany.

It’s serendipitous; there’s no way that it can’t be. Especially after the conversation she’d had with Kylie the previous night. Her best friend had basically told her that she wouldn’t find love until she took a risk and stepped outside of her comfort zone, and Amy can’t think of a greater risk than the one currently presented before her. There’s no way it could be a coincidence, she quickly concludes, and it might be partly because of the residue of alcohol in her system but Amy only hesitates for the briefest of moments before keying in her email address to have the forms sent to her.

For once in her life, Amy Santiago is going to take a risk that she hasn’t calculated to the most minute degree, in the hope that maybe- just maybe- it might all pay off.


End file.
